Leave it All Up to Chances
by ArashiAkurei
Summary: Semi-AU "Become my servant." Funny, how it all happened after a bad day at work that she'd end up finding a gorgeous bloodied up man in a trash can. SunaKyo


**Disclaimer:** I don't own the characters, nor the base of the plot. All I own is the weird twists I put into it. Any OCs you don't recognize the name of belong to me. Except for the guy that Sunako used to have a crush on.

**Note:** Based off of the drama series, Kimi wa Petto (You're My Pet). Don't ask me how I saw any parallels between the main characters and those of Wallflower. I just _did_ and it freaks me out a bit. But if you want to check out a light-hearted drama, that's the one for you. And I needed to rant and rave about stereotypes and get myself back into writing because DAMN, hiatuses SUCK.

**Warnings:** Varying levels of profanity, inappropriate behavior in the office, extremely sexist/judgmental remarks, age gap between characters in relationships, varying levels of OOC...and a very amateurish writer. Good luck surviving this torture!

**Summary:** "Become my pet." That's where it went downhill for Nakahara Sunako--when she came upon an injured man whose name she never bothered to ask for and in the weirdest circumstances, they come to live together.

--

It was unthinkable that Nakahara Sunako, nicknamed "horror queen" and "murder doll" by her co-workers, would be standing behind the porcelain bath tub in her condo, washing the golden locks of a man whom she dubbed "akuma," because if it was one thing she was not accustomed to in her daily life (besides, you know, GIVING A MAN A HEAD MASSAGE) it was the devilish good looks of a member of the opposite sex. The man sitting in her bath tub, fully-naked and only covered by soap suds from a bubble bath? Prime example of devilish good looks. It didn't help either that he was a model for a company that was slowly rising up in the ranks. Takano Kyohei was his real name, and he had legions of (hell-borne) fans. In short, he was like a celebrity that would turn heads wherever he went, even if he had a terrible scowl on his face and the _worst attitude_ out of _anyone_ that Sunako had ever known, excluding her co-workers of course.

"Ah that feels good... make me some fried shrimp for dinner!" Kyohei demanded as he leaned back on the edge of the bath tub as Sunako lavished attention on his hair. Said female had to suppress the urge to rip his scalp off for the hundredth time in the past week and instead, settled for smacking the back of his head as hard as she could. The model clutched his abused skull and spun around in the tub, causing bubbles to fly everywhere as he snapped at her. "Ow! What the hell was that for, bitch!?"

"Shut up, _asshole!_ You're the servant here, not me!" Veins started popping on her forehead and she focused her demonic, utterly irritated grin upon him. Feeling the not-so-friendly sparks and tension in the air, Kyohei shrunk back a bit, but he still held an air of insolence around him. Had been since day one. Sunako wondered why she didn't have any second thoughts about letting him reside here for the time being when she first pulled him in that rainy (but beautiful) day seven days ago. Kyohei sighed as he rested his head on his fore-arms and leveled her with an exasperated look.

"Well, I offered to give you a bath and wash your hair, but you refused and punched me in the eye. I also offered to wash the dishes, cook dinner, do the laundry, sweep the house, but you told me to stop doing the chores after day one." Kyohei stated irritatedly, and all of the things he said were true... however...

"That's because you were _peeping_ on me right when I got in the shower. The punch was a reflex! You broke all the dishes that you tried to wash, you nearly set the kitchen on fire when you tried to cook scrambled eggs, you _somehow_ let the laundry go flying in the wind straight into the recreational area in the back, and when you swept the house I found the trash _underneath the couch_." Sunako retorted as she slapped him. Again.

"Ow! Hey, that punch was _not_ a reflex. You don't call it a reflex when you purposely get out of the shower, walk across the bathroom, and punch a hole through the door just to hit someone in the face! And besides, you're not that hot--grrbreberbrbrrbbbrlub!!" With her hand placed firmly on the top of his head, she shoved him and kept him under the water in the tub.

"Say any more, and you'll be best friends with the fish in the lake in the nearby park."

Yes, that fateful evening seven days ago. Sunako regretted not leaving him out in the streets to die. Sort of.

--

"Nakahara-san, will you please look at this article and see if there are any mistakes?"

"Sure."

"Nakahara-san, the chief says that your article on the latest theatre production is due first thing tomorrow morning."

"I'll get right on it."

"Nakahara-san, these need to be sorted and filed."

"Alright."

"Jeez, do you ever get sick of hearing them address you as 'Nakahara-san' each and every second they breathe?" Sunako let out a small sigh of relief as she sat down in her chair within the editorial department of the Asahi Shimbun newspaper headquarters. Truthfully, she hated the place, but it paid for her hobbies and what not. Plus, some of her co-workers weren't so bad. The one sitting across from her shared similar interests, but had a much more cocky attitude on a normal basis than Sunako did.

"Not really, it's better than some of the names they give me," Sunako whispered as she nodded to the group of gossiping female editors to her right. All gave off the air of the girls that follow the latest fashion trend, living off the money from their wealthy parents. The term "kogal" flew across Sunako's mind for a moment. They were all staring at her and muttering behind their hands, although their voices were loud and shrill enough that she could hear _exactly_ what they were saying.

"Oh my god, there she is again..."

"Ew, her clothes are hideous. You'd think that with her intelligence and reputation _and_ income that she'd afford something from Gucci or Prada. And maybe a purse from Louis Vuitton!"

"Well, she is wearing a shirt from Dolce & Gabbana... but last I recalled, it's a _men's_ shirt."

"Is she confused?"

"Don't mind them, Sunako. They've got nothing better to talk about and besides, they're too busy slacking off to do something beneficial for this department." Sunako nodded in agreement as she typed away on her laptop--it was better not to waste your breath on this sort of thing. She didn't see the point in dressing up like a model every single day she was alive, especially if she worked for a local newspaper, not some high-end fashion magazine. Her co-worker gave off a loud yawn (which she _knew_ was fake, because that woman drank coffee like she inhaled air), and propped her legs on the desk at which the gossiping editors gasped at. "So, got any plans for this weekend? We should _totally_ hit up a karaoke bar and go shopping in Shibuya. But _oh_, the thought of running into those girls just make me shudder and gag."

Sunako chuckled at her co-worker's tone, knowing well enough that even though it sounded like she was just talking about plans for the weekend that she was just bullshitting and mocking the group of women standing not more than seven meters away. "What are you talking about, Jun?"

"You know, those _kogals_." Jun swung her legs off the table, nearly hitting the man that sat next to her in the face as she leaned forward so that she was staring Sunako in the eyes. Even though her face was pulled down into an incredibly disgusted scowl, her eyes were filled with silent mirth. "I mean, I've talked to some of them before and some are really truly nice, but the majority of them are so _irritating_ and _fake_. It gives me the mental image that the layers of foundation they put on are rubbing off and clumping on their face. It's disgusting."

"Yeah, I understand what you mean. They're always so busy text messaging on their cellphones and getting their manicures done that you'd think they'd focus that energy elsewhere..." Sure enough, the group of women were now hissing profanities under their breath. It was easy to get them riled and it entertained Sunako when they did. Jun smirked behind her hand as she straightened out the papers in the manila folder on her table.

"So, enough of that... how are you?"

"What do you mean, how am I?" Sunako incquired nonchalantly as she proceeded writing the next paragraph of the article due first thing the following morning.

"You know what I mean. It hasn't even been a week since the break-up and I just want to know..." Jun muttered as she shut the manila folder and pulled out her laptop. Sunako didn't look up from the screen, but her fingers froze after she made an error.

"I'm fine, Jun. Just fine."

--

"Fine? How can I be _fine_?" Sunako rubbed her temple, feeling yet another headache coming on. Her therapist, an eccentric woman who was always never seen without her cat, adjusted her black-rimmed glasses as she peered through the lenses at her. "It'd be fine if he, you know, told me a more logical reason for breaking up with me. Instead, he chose to invite that woman to _our condo_, make out with her on _our couch_, and had the nerve to say to me that he's breaking up with me because I'm _too ugly for him_."

"Yes, yes, men these days. They're interested in nothing more than a pretty face and big breasts." The therapist nodded solemnly, but Sunako barely paid any attention to her as she was currently seeing _red_. Pent-up anger that was suppressed by the sheer _mountains_ of editorial work forced on her for the past week.

"--which never really occurred to me before. I mean, I do work a lot so I'd understand if it was a matter of a definite lack of attention and time together, but whenever I have my days off I devote attention to him. Cook for him, go out on evening walks with him. But he just said, 'You're too ugly for me. You don't pay enough attention to how you look and it's disgusting.' What kind of crap is that anyway? What am I supposed to be, a trophy wife?"

"Not entirely related, but who had more income, you or him?"

"Me," Sunako answered immediately as she continued her verbal tirade. "It's always like that. Even if he gets promoted I'd still be ahead. Is it really my fault that I want to work so much so that I can support him _and_ myself?"

"Well deary, you know how some men are. They simply don't like women in charge! That's why you need a pet! They don't disobey you and they're always there to listen to you." Sunako raised a skeptic eyebrow as her therapist nuzzled her cat.

"My complex doesn't allow pets of any sort. I would've had a cat by now if it did."

"Aw, that's too bad." The therapist pouted as Sunako got up off the chair and stretched, before walking straight for the door. "And dear, it's okay to cry!"

"Forget it."

--

"Now see, you're lying. I'm not your best friend or anything and I don't know a lot about you, but I can just _tell_ when you're lying."

"Fine. I am lying. He is an asshole, but it's in the past and I'm getting over it. There." She backspaced and re-typed the part of the article she made an error on, her headache getting worse by the second. It didn't help that more of her co-workers are showing up. In particular, the ones that didn't like her and vice versa.

"Now now, women shouldn't use that type of language!"

"Oh, and what, so you can just because you're a man?" Jun snapped as she typed furiously. Even from across the table, Sunako could tell she was aggravated. The air of malice around her was getting worse, but no one but her noticed.

"Why yes, I can. Women are supposed to just sit still and be pretty and let men lavish attention on them. Like this." Without even a slight warning, he pawed at Sunako's breasts.

A lot of things happened simultaneously. For one, Jun, whom had mastered typing without paying any attention to the screen, opened her mouth to give the man's ears hell. Another thing was that some of the female co-workers gasped in horror, and the male editors whistled. The last thing was Sunako, eyes snapped open and almost _glowing_ red, stood up and promptly punched the poor idiot in the face. _Hard_. The man fell with a thud on the floor, blood flowing out of his nose. It took Sunako a moment to realize what she did and she promptly blanched.

"..."

"... ..."

"Well shit, Sunako," Jun whistled in awe. "You just knocked the chief editor out."

--

"Stupid headache, stupid me..." Sunako grumbled as she was in a current state of astonishment and slight guilt as the most idiotic thing she could possibly do besides blow up her boss' office, she did. If she was lucky, she wouldn't be fired for fighting in the office, but a definite demotion was ahead of her. Slight pranks and silly remarks are almost ignored, but knocking someone out even if it was a case of sexual harassment... she'd get demoted for sure, but if that was the case she was without a doubt going to take that bastard chief editor with her.

Her left knee gave in and she collapsed on the road with a grunt and shouted in anger as she rubbed her heel. It wasn't exactly a smart idea to wear heels, but sadly enough their office had a strict dresscode when it came to shoes. Not that she hadn't disobeyed it already, but the fact that she was caught a week earlier with combat boots didn't exactly help her case. She shut her eyes for a second before inhaling and pushing herself up, reminding herself that her condo was only a block away and she could survive a small blister until she arrived.

Sunako turned the block, praying that it'd rain that day because she was starting to get sick of all the sunshine and heat, but the overcast sky gave her hope for this evening. Well, it wouldn't hurt to cook a meal to gorge out on by herself in order to prepare for the nightmare that was sure to ensue the next morning. As she approached the gate of the complex, she noticed a large trash can placed conspicuously by the streetlight. It was strange, not because it was placed in the wrong spot but because she hadn't _seen_ that trash can anywhere on the complex before.

"You're overthinking, Sunako... it's just a trash can after all..." But deciding that it wouldn't hurt her to check it out, she kicked it.

And nearly jumped out of her skin when she heart a groan of pain as a response.

"What the hell..." She murmured in slight shock as she pulled off the lid of the trash can, peering at its contents. The first thing she took notice of was blood.

She always had an odd fascination with blood. The second thing she noticed though was yes, it belonged to someone. The someone was a man, curled up in a tight ball in the trash, blood splattered all over his clothes and dried in his hair. An array of cuts and gashes adorned his lithe form, and if he hadn't groaned earlier, Sunako would've sworn that he was a fresh corpse. So, in realizing that yes, this man was indeed _alive_, she felt the first tinges of panic settling in.

"Crap, I should call the hospital... but it'll be troublesome... should I call the police? No, I don't know what happened to him yet... should I leave him? Maybe, but that..." All her thoughts stopped when a hand reached out and grabbed her wrist, and the man in the trash can looked up at her through thick black lashes, his eyes shining gold in the orange glow of the streetlight.

"H-Help me..."

And all Sunako could do was nod as the evening rain started to fall.

--

"God... _damn_... it!" Sunako shouted as she more-or-less hurled the trash can in through her door, having dragged it up to the fifth level where her condo was while simultaneously lying through her teeth to her nosy landlord. The man fell slightly out of the trash can and moaned softly, still in a fetal position, a bit wet from the sudden rain. Fate and destiny seemed to like playing with Sunako, and she didn't enjoy it one bit. When you're a twenty-nine year-old woman that is on the verge of being fired from a well-paying job because you punched someone out because that certain individual groped you, you're likely to hit up the nearest bar to drink the night away, or go to a host club. But Sunako? She just wanted peace and quiet and a nice slasher flick. Which, of course, was shattered.

In the privacy of her own condo, she kneeled down to examine the man. He couldn't possibly be any older than her, with a face of an angel envied by all others in heaven, even if he was covered in blood. His hair was the rich color of honey, and his lashes were a length that any self-respecting model would be envious of. It was a miracle that such a guy would get in such a miserable state. Sunako swore under her breath and reached under his arm and around his back, pulling him up a bit. It was awkward, helping out a member of the opposite sex (she had a slight aversion to men, even before she dated her ex), but there was nothing else she could do in this situation. And besides, she couldn't take back her own words now.

She grunted as she dragged him to the bathroom, him having finally lost consciousness. Without thinking about his pain, she threw him into the bath tub before pulling out her wash cloth. His clothing was torn in several places, but it seemed as if his upper torso suffered the brunt of the attack as it was absolutely riddled with bruises and cuts. Sunako wasn't disgusted with the sight of blood, it was actually quite beautiful... but right now was definitely not the time to think about her own obsessions.

She quickly made work of the buttons on his shirt, removing it before gently pulling the undershirt off and examining the damage done. Upon closer inspection the cuts weren't that deep, it was just that there were a lot of them. Still feeling a bit shell-shocked, she turned on the water and began to wash off the blood.

--

It was about an hour later that she was finally done cleaning him and patching him up. His hair was slightly damp from her washing the blood out of the honey-colored strands, and he was currently dressed in a sweat-shirt that was much too large for Sunako and was the only one that would fit. Same with the sweat-pants. His pants were currently tumbling around in the washing machine and Sunako had decided that his undershirt and button-up were beyond help.

At a loss for what to do as she stared at him, she settled for cooking a meal for herself and now him, because it'd be rude not to, even if he had to inconvenience her by hiding in a trash can all bloodied up. Then again, it was her fault for being too damn curious. In fact, it made her question the saying, "Curiousity killed the cat."

What a bunch of crap.

Sunako stretched, yawning a bit as she stirred the okayu in the pot, turning the fire off. She scooped some into a small bowl with the ladle and set it on a skull-print tray, waiting for it to cool off a bit as she took it over to the coffee table in front of the couch where the unnamed man lay. After scooping some with a spoon, she blew on it and lifted it to his lips. She reached around his head to pull him up a bit, because she didn't exactly want to be arrested for accidentally killing him by making him choke on some rice porridge. His lips parted when the tip of the spoon touched it, and Sunako slowly tilted it, tapping it a bit so a bit of the rice concoction could slide into his mouth. His face scrunched up at the sudden warmth but he swallowed it nonetheless, exhaling when it slid down his throat. Sunako repeated the process throughout the night, and was surprised to find that her headache had dissipated.

--

**Note**:... Okay, that was a complete failure. I really need to work on describing emotions more. Reviews are not necessary, but I would love it if you did leave one to tell me your thoughts. I apologize for any typos I made, it's currently 2:42 and I'm sorta pissed at the heat.


End file.
